At-Home Facial
by Deb Zorski
Summary: Rabbit refuses upgrades and repairs so much because he tries to fix himself first when things go wrong. Unfortunately, Band-Aids don't hold up well against cheek vents. Steam Powered Giraffe, inspired by an idea from worlds2ndconsultingrabbit on Tumblr.


_For anyone interested, I started a tumblr: _

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Rabbit hated repairs and upgrades so much that he avoided them unless absolutely necessary, which often resulted in hiding any and all problems from both the humans and his brothers. He liked himself just the way he was, the way Peter I had built him. He was an innovation then, the very first automaton, and his clockwork insides would always remind him of that and make him proud of himself again. Sure, he wasn't nice to look at: wires crisscrossed in unusual ways, no torso pieces at all to cover his connectors, joints and gears exposed where his pieces did connect on his limbs, the occasional sharp edge here and there from his war engineering, and his face oxidizing more every single day. Actually, that part he rather liked; his new coloring was turning out in such pretty designs that it almost looked like a woman's beautiful makeup, which made him feel even closer to being human.

Rabbit was used to hiding it when things went wrong so he could perform his own repairs and maintenance, so much that he had spare parts and tools hidden all around his room. He would say nothing about the constant glitches and malfunctions, even when he knew they were his own fault because he hadn't connected things in the right ways. It was hard for him to work looking upside down at his own chassis, and even harder when someone would interrupt him and he'd have to hurry to finish. This time though, he wasn't sure if he could keep hiding his problems, because his faceplates were literally falling right off.

He'd been having trouble lately with his jaw: sometimes it wouldn't fully open so he'd have to sing extra wide at shows, which hurt. After each show, he'd tighten the bolts back up again on his cheeks and right at the base of his skull plate, but now they were coming loose all on their own, and fast. They couldn't handle the strain anymore, and Rabbit winced when he felt the threads losing grip inside his mouth. Holding his chin to stop the bolts from popping out, he snuck to the bathroom and started searching.

"There's that tape they use when they're broken…" he mumbled about the humans, seeing bleeding cuts patched up dozens of times with the special brown sticky strips. Finding nothing in the drawers, he opened the mirror and found the box on a shelf. "Band-Aids!" he smiled in triumph, causing a bolt just under his photoreceptor to pop out and skitter down the sink's drain hole. He cringed, knowing he didn't have any spare bolts in his room. In the past, it had been easy: he'd etch off the rest of the silver plating on his nose once it started to corrode to reveal it was all copper, which oxidized turquoise anyway, and then tell his brothers that he had always looked that way but they just never noticed. Or solder new alloy in a spiral design onto his chin when he discovered rusted pinholes that would mess up the projection of his voice box if they stayed open and exposed. Those were easy fixes, when the pain was bearable but still unpleasant. They weren't anything like trying to hold his whole face together, and now that he'd lost a bolt and would need help finding new parts, he started to panic. How would he explain that his face was falling off when he had looked just fine a few hours ago performing?

The wrappings on the Band-Aids were easy enough to take off, and for once Rabbit was grateful for his sharp fingers in their ease of placing the bandages on his faceplates. He covered every single loose edge and threatening bolt within minutes, then looked at his work again in the mirror. He smiled, happy when none of the Band-Aids moved. "Perfect." he nodded to himself, sighing in relief as steam came from his cheek vents and escaped into the air through loose-edged faceplates. The Band-Aids wilted immediately from the heated vapor and Rabbit's face crumpled. He started to worry again; he would be in so much trouble for not telling anyone there was a problem and then making things worse in trying to fix it himself. Plus, he'd used all the humans' bandages and none of them were staying on because of his steam! His boiler chugged faster to match his panicked thoughts, which only made more steam pour out of his vents, and the bandages fell off his face and into the sink full of wrappers. He grabbed his cheek plates and pressed them tightly against his vents, holding them there with so much pressure his mouth stuck out in a pout.

He needed help. He hated that. "Spine? SPINE!"

"I heard you on the Wi-Fi." The Spine calmly answered once he had reached the bathroom doorway, not far from his own room. "How did you break your faceplates?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

Rabbit let go of his cheeks to show the damage. With the loose bolts, more of which had popped out from the steam release, one faceplate now popped loose at the top edge by his left photoreceptor while the other hung down by Rabbit's neck, held on by a single remaining bolt, to fully expose his vent. He was now chugging away almost to the point of hysterics, a constant pouring of steam from his face as more bandages wilted, and he felt his temperature start rising to match the strain of his boiler. "The b-b-bolts keep coming out! I can't stop it and I can't fix-fix it neither! Aw, w-why couldn't my vents have been s-s-s-somewhere else!?" he wailed.

The Spine's knitted his eyebrows in a concerned expression. Rabbit was showing clear signs of distress already, and they both knew tics and stutters combined with a rising core temperature was a perfect mix for emergency automatic shut downs. "You tried to fix this? By yourself?"

"I keep tools in my room so I won't hafta get fixed. No-no-no-no-nobody knows. You don't know, I never told you!"

"You just did, Rabbit."

"It's a s-s-secret. Spine! I like me how I-I am! NO upgrades!" Rabbit huffed, oily tears pricking away at the corners of his eyes that he wiped away quickly before the Spine could see.

"All right, Rabbit. No upgrades. We'll fix it, just try to relax." The Spine put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Just us. We'll fix it." He repeated, nodding and reassuring Rabbit. "Let me see what tools you have."

An hour later, both bots came downstairs for dinner with the family, Rabbit's faceplates on his jaw now completely gone and his vents fully exposed. He felt naked and embarrassed as his steam slowly streamed out, eyes downcast and glass of water remaining untouched. No one had mentioned anything unusual or different, which made him relax a little bit. Maybe it wasn't so bad after all, especially since releasing steam meant he was functioning properly, even if he did look even weirder than usual now with his new face. The Spine met his gaze halfway through dinner, sensing his brother's unease through the Wi-Fi and seeing the glass of water hardly even sipped at.

"I gave Rabbit a facial today," Spine announced suddenly. "And gee, doesn't he look great?" He gave his signature charming smile to hint complimenting from the rest of the family, which they did emphatically. By the end of dinner, Rabbit was smiling again, the cheek vents adding a more permanent grin that embodied his carefree spirit, and would become as much a part of him as the family that loved him through every past (and future) haphazard repair.


End file.
